


Icarus

by Auginess



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Made up timeline, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, just a brief glimpse of what I imagine their tragedy would look like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auginess/pseuds/Auginess
Summary: “I want to kiss you” Agnes admitted one night, eyes fixated on Gertrude’s cruel but soft-looking mouth. What would she taste like if she was human enough to feast?“I’ll find a way”
Relationships: Agnes Montague/Gertrude Robinson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Icarus

Gertrude didn’t want to find Agnes, didn’t want to play the Web’s game.

She ended up doing so, anyway, because all path leads to Rome and all the statements lead to Agnes. Beautify, dangerous Agnes.

Gertrude didn’t want to fall for Agnes because there was no love in a world of monsters. She was no Icarus, she told herself, she wouldn’t love the sun. She wouldn’t melt for her.

She was wrong, of course. The world felt unbearably colder after tasting Agnes’ warmth.

Agnes didn’t want to fall for Gertrude, either. She didn’t even think love was a thing she could feel. Love was for humans and monsters, not Gods.

But she did, anyway, because the ice in Gertrude’s eyes burned brighter than the hottest fire because her blond hair shone like flames and her soft skin looked like porcelain.

Agnes was a faithless Goddess until she met Gertrude, until she knew the holy experience falling in love with her was. Gertrude taught her why people fell to their knees and prayed.

Contrary to popular belief, that was the only thing The Mother of Puppets did: force them to meet, let them fall catastrophically hard for each other. Everything else that happened between them was theirs only, even if they were too scared to admit it.

Somehow, eight astonished eyes watched how the burning desire and adoration became friendship and trust and home. What should have been the tragic end of Gertrude Robinson in the arms of her lover became long walks by the sea, whispered words, shared books and secret dates every Friday in a small café.

“I want to kiss you” Agnes admitted one night, eyes fixated on Gertrude’s cruel but soft-looking mouth. What would she taste like if she was human enough to feast?

“I’ll find a way”

“You should concentrate on finding another woman instead”.

Gertrude laughed.

“After meeting you, no woman could compare”. Then she locked her blue eyes with hers “I’ll find a way, I promise. Just wait for me”.

But it was too late for them because she already knew too much. And soon she discovered that although the Desolation was dangerous, there was always an impending apocalypse somewhere that she had to avert.

“I’ll wait for you. Fridays at Molly’s, as always” Agnes smiled.

Gertrude came empty-handed a few times, and then, eventually, she stopped coming. She never forgot Agnes, never stop feeling the tightly knitted thread that them together, never loved anyone else, never stopped adoring her in silence. But she stopped coming to her.

She couldn’t find the time, always travelling, always fighting monsters, and trying to not become one herself. But in every battle, every occasion, Gertrude prayed tribute to her love and made sure to burn to ashes every threat.

Despite this, Agnes kept going to Molly’s every Friday, even when Molly’s closed and a Starbucks opened, even when that Starbucks closed, and a new bank branch opened instead. Agnes stayed for decades, standing over the same spot, looking out for a blonde head and a familiar smirk.

But even though she never lost faith in Gertrude’s return, Agnes lost faith again in everything else. It wasn’t the archivist fault, but a long trail of catastrophes, the consequences of a long since failed ritual. What was Agnes good for if she couldn’t bring the Desolation back? If her eyes lacked the cruelty and joy the others felt when hurting people? If her fire burned hotly enough to hurt her own kind?

And so, Agnes lost her mind (she had every right, after being forced into Divinity) and kept waiting for a woman that had been living for decades in her memories.

Gertrude lost her mind too, in her own way (she had every right, as well). She realized that when she came alone from Russia and found another empty desk at her archive. Worth it? She was sure of it, but she wished it hadn’t come to that. And in her darkest hour, Gertrude remembered whose flame burnt brighter.

It took him forty years to return, but Gertrude did. A Friday at six by the place that used to be Molly’s Café. She lost her breath when she saw her, red hair falling down her back, standing by the bank’s door, looking exactly how she used to four decades alone, frozen in time. She rushed towards her.

“Agnes!” she didn’t dare to scream, didn’t dare to raise her voice in the multitude “It’s me, love, I’m back. And I’m so very sorry”.

“You who?” Agnes sweetly asked back, eyes unfocused as she looked at Gertrude’s extended hands.

“Gertrude”.

Agnes' eyes looked at the old woman before her, her face covered in wrinkles, her tired blue eyes, her gray -not blonde – hair. But, most importantly, Agnes looked at a woman who was not human anymore, but rather an unwilling monster, servant of a rival entity. A woman defeated in ways her archivist couldn’t be. She smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry. You are not who I’m waiting for” And turned her face away from her

**Author's Note:**

> Not me using old spansih songs as inspo for my fics again! (in case you are interested - Penelope by Joan Manuel Serrat)
> 
> Anyway, I wrote this instead of sleeping so blame it on the 3 am brain fog. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are cherished forever
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr (@augi-goes-writing) 
> 
> Take care!


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